


Lord's Right

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-15
Updated: 2011-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Queen holds up the newest series of uniforms, an awful pink princess dress that’s disturbingly short. Any sort of movement, even walking too fast, is going to end up showing off everything underneath. The dress is the colour of cotton candy and it's covered in an array of even-pinker bows and frills and lace.</p><p>Jac Noir shakes her head, refusing to even consider such an ugly mess, “No, I’m not wearing that.”</p><p>(An examination of how the dynamic changes between Jack Noir/The Black Queen when you flip their genders)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lord's Right

The Queen holds up the newest series of uniforms, an awful pink princess dress that’s disturbingly short. Any sort of movement, even walking too fast, is going to end up showing off everything underneath. The dress is the colour of cotton candy and it's covered in an array of even-pinker bows and frills and lace.

Jac Noir shakes her head, refusing to even consider such an ugly mess, “No, I’m not wearing that.”

“You don’t have a choice in the matter,” The Queen sets the dress on Jac’s desk, tapping his foot with annoyance, “Everyone wears the uniforms, even you.”

Of course, the Queen doesn’t have to wear something so humiliating. No, he gets to wear tunic with a jacket and a cape. Nobody would dare put the Queen in a pink princess dress. All the outfits are awful, but at least some of them go down to the knees and aren't covered in useless frivolities. And aren't pink.

“I’ve got a uniform,” She snaps at him. Jac likes her uniform, the plain black and white tunic that she’s had for ages and ages; the high collar and the low hem and the way both draw attention away from her gender. In this, she’s the Archagent and everyone respects her. In that, she’s...

She refuses to even think about it.

The huge bastard (bluh bluh) simply takes this as an opportunity to lash a tentacle around her neck and yank her up off the floor. Jac struggles and kicks, digging her fingers into the tentacle and fighting as best she can. The Queen just watches with those creepy flat eyes of his. It's a fucking crime that the Queen's outsides aren't as nasty as his insides. Instead, he's tall and handsome and attractive, and cruel beyond compare. If he looked like he acted, his face would stop a clock, “Your uniform is whatever you are ordered to wear, whenever and wherever you are ordered to do so. Do you understand?”

She can’t breath. The blackness rushes in at the corner of Jac’s eyes. She would like to resist to the very end, but her lungs burn, and she nods. Yeah she understands. Jac knows the fucking score.

The Queen releases her and Jac hits the floor, coughing and gasping in air. She’s barely got her breath back when the pink dress comes into view again, held in the Queen’s outstretched tentacle. Jac grabs onto it and gets to her feet, heading out of the room to change.

“And where do you think you’re going?” The Queen asks, sitting up on Jac’s desk.

Jac grits her teeth for a moment before spitting out, “To change.”

“You can do that here,” He picks up a pile of unfinished tickets, sorting through them and getting them completely out of order, “Then I can be sure the dress won’t get ‘ripped’ or ‘torn’ on your way back,” The Queen watches Jac struggle to find a respective way to tell him to go fuck himself, then adds, “It’s not as if you’ve got anything worth hiding.”

She stares at him, feeling her heart and stomach knot up. Oh that bastard, that absolute bastard. It’s not enough to humiliate her; he’s got to shame her too. It’s not like she doesn’t know her own body, not like she’s aware that she’s small and flat.

Jac glares at him and begins to undress, furiously undoing the frog-clips on her uniform. The Queen just watches, tapping his foot against her desk like Jac’s holding him up. If Jac’s face is red, it’s not because she’s embarrassed, only because she hates him so much that it makes her heart want to explode in her chest. She drops her uniform, grabbing the princess dress and yanking it quickly over her head. There’s half a second before silk and crinoline cover her up, and the Queen just watches.

She finally gets the dress on and done up, almost shaking with rage, “Anything else, your majesty?” Jac spits out the last two words, fists bunched in her dress.

“I can think of a few things,” He smiles, and she just stares silently at him, trying to kill him with the power of her thoughts. The Queen taps one foot on Jac’s chair, “Sit down.”

Jac reluctantly approaches her desk, sitting in her chair. She’s about to push her chair closer when the Queen wraps a tentacle around it and keeps it just that little bit away. And while that one keeps her chair still, the other slips under her dress, grabbing the end and lifting it up. She shoves both hands down on her skirt, pressing her legs tightly together and refusing to let him look. It tugs again and Jac doesn’t budge.

“I don’t know why you always insist on being difficult,” The Queen says, tentacle sliding off the chair and snapping lightening fast onto her wrists, looping and knotting them together. And while it yanks her arms up over her head, the other tentacle shoves her skirt up and wraps around her bare waist, holding her tight and preventing her from getting away from him. He continues as if she isn’t struggling to get free, “If you would just cooperate from time to time, we could both enjoy ourselves.”

"Fuck you-" She spits out, her sentence coming to a sudden halt when the Queen hauls off and slaps Jac across the face.

"That's not how you address your sovereign," The Queen's voice is icy cold. Jac's face is stinging, her eyes watering from the force. He hits like a son of a bitch. "Apologize."

"Sorry your majesty," Her voice strains as she says the words, threatening to break into a fit of rage at any second. "It wasn't my place to speak."

"That's right, it wasn't," The tentacles lift her up, casually turning Jac upside down and giving her a shake until her skirt falls up, revealing everything. Her face burns as blood rushes into it, and no amount of pressing her thighs together can hide her from his prying eyes. "Spread your legs."

She doesn't. If he wants them spread, he'll have to force them apart.

The Queen drops Jac on the floor without warning. Her head hits the marble and rings. She tries to get to her feet, but just as she gets her knees under her, the Queen's foot slams into her side. Jac hits the ground again, and the Queen just turns her over onto her back, watching while Jac gasps for air.

"You should really be more grateful. I could have you executed any time I like and replaced in a few seconds with someone more willing to do as they're told," The Queen threatens, but that's all it is, a threat. He doesn't want someone more willing. The Queen wants Jack, wants to torment her and to debase her, and to make her utterly miserable. But she can hardly say this, not when she's gasping for air, not when the Queen is standing right over her.

The Queen settles into Jac's chair, watching as Jac catches her breath and tiredly climbs to her feet. "Yes. Your majesty." The words are painful to say, but she somehow says them. The Queen nods with approval, swinging the chair to face Jac.

"Now then Jac. Lift your skirt for me," One tentacle slides across the floor, wrapping around Jac's ankle and threatening to topple her if she doesn't obey. Her hands clench at the skirt but she doesn't lift it. She stares at the Queen, willing her to stop, to back down. The Queen tightens the tentacle. "Jac. Now."

Shaking with rage, she lifts the all too short skirt. The Queen smirks to himself, his eyes fixed on her cunt. Jac wants nothing more than to smash the Queen's face into the desk, to obliterate that smug fucking look and replace it with blood and broken teeth. When she speaks, her words come out short and clipped to hide the emotion boiling inside of her. "May I go back to work your Majesty?"

"I have a reward for all the good work you've been doing," That maddening look stays on the Queen's face, the too smug smirk that makes Jac want to puke. "Keep your skirt lifted."

The reason for keeping her skirt up becomes clear as the tentacle loosens and then snakes up her leg, wrapping around the thigh. Jac drops it out of shock and tries to stumble back, but quick as a snake, the other tentacle lashes around her waist, yanking Jac back and closer to the Queen. As the tentacle slides under her skirt, Jac Noir flips out. "nononono-"

"Yes," The Queen grins and the blunt end of the tentacle slides against Jac's cunt. It rubs against the lips, going back and forth, back and forth, almost taunting her. "You're quite lucky I'm doing this for you. There are much more attractive women in this Kingdom, some who even have breasts. You should be glad I'm giving you such attention. Now lift your skirt."

"No!" She grabs onto the tentacle, trying to yank it away from her. The one around her waist unspools, grabbing one hand and yanking it painfully behind her back. It twists hard enough that she can hear her carapace creak, threatening to split wide open. Still, she tries desperately to fight back, or to at least reason with the bastard. "Fuck you, fuck you, I don't fucking want this!"

"Of course you do, let's not be silly," He twists again and Jac cries out in pain. The Queen holds her arm in that position, just watching her twist and writhe in pain, the tentacle below her skirt rubbing steadily against the the front of her cunt, not pushing in yet but clearly able to at any moment. "Now, we can do this two ways. Either you can cooperate and lift your skirt, and this will be something special between just you and I. Or you can continue to disobey, and when I've finished, I'll have you given to the guards to entertain themselves with before your execution."

She grits her teeth together, eyes welling up as the pain jolts through her body. This isn't a choice. This is one torture over another. But as much as she'd like to spit in the Queen's face and resist to the end, she's not fucking stupid. The Queen's going to do what he wants, and when he's done hurting her, she'll be up for another round of humiliation, this time the kind that will end with her dead. She spits the words out. "I-I. I'll l-lift the s-skirt."

"Good girl," He lets go of Jac's arm and Jac stumbles to the side, holding her arm. It still aches, a steady dull throb where the Queen twisted too hard. The tentacle pulls Jac closer again, prompting her. "Now then. Lift it."

Her fingers clench the skirt in them and lift it up. Jac's face is red with frustration and shame and she balls her hands tight as the tentacle begins to rub against her cunt again, this time sliding in just enough to rub up against her clit. The worst part of this whole thing is that even though she hates the Queen, even though she's in pain and humiliated, her body still responds to the Queen's touch.

"Spread your legs further apart," The tentacle that's not sliding against her clit nudges her knees apart, forcing Jac to take a wider stance. She doesn't say anything, not a word, even as the tentacle's blunt end leaves her clit, siding towards her entrance and pressing up against it. Her cheeks are burning hot, her jaw clenched shut as the end ever so slowly pushes into her. The length of tentacle forms a loop, and the arch of that loop presses against the front of her cunt, rubbing against her clit. The Queen watches with that smirk of his as he slowly begins to fuck her. "Say thank you."

"Thank you," The words are little more than a resentful whisper. The tentacle inside of her squirms in response and Jac bites her tongue to keep from making a sound. It twists and flexes, the sensation troublesome and arousing at the same moment. Her hands tighten so hard that her fingers begin to go numb, and the fabric makes unfriendly sounds.

"Do you see how nice things can be when you behave?" He taunts her, the tentacle thrusting into her with each word. Her clit throbs as he rubs against it, and it throbs even worse when she sees the way his own outfit is no longer so smooth against his crotch, the unmistakable outline of an erection underneath. Of course he's getting off on this, his eyes fixed on what's underneath her skirt, the sight of that tentacle slipping in and out of her. The other one squirms into one armhole, sliding around her chest. She feels the end rub up against her nipples and she clenches her jaw to keep from making any sound. "It's a pity you haven't got any real breasts. But I'm sure we can make do with what you do have."

Jac grits her teeth, refusing to acknowledge anything he's saying unless he forces her too. His one hand slides into his lap, the heel of his palm running over his cock. She watches him stroke himself, feeling the tentacle moving inside of her in time with it. Her body should be paralysed with rage, but it's turned against her, and she feels the build deep down inside of her, getting faster and louder with each and every twisting thrust.

"My you're wet," The Queen's smile shows his teeth, the tentacle sliding in deeper. Jac sucks in a breath of air, shocked by the sensation. It undulates inside of her, and the loop grinds up against her clit, not giving her a moment of respite from this. "You certainly are enjoying this. Is it the tentacles? Or has it been a long time since you were touched?"

She stays silent, even as he pushes in deeper again and tries to force out some sound from her. The Queen speeds his thrusts up, though the palm of his hand continues to slowly rub his cock, not moving any faster than before. She's going to come if he keeps this up. Her hands shake, barely keeping the skirt up. If she comes, maybe he'll be done with her. Or maybe he hasn't even started yet.

The climax builds, and just as Jac's about to fall to pieces, the Queen suddenly comes to a stop, the tentacle still deep inside of her. She barely bites back a whine, her clit throbbing painfully as she sits on the edge. It takes all her self-control not to jerk her hips down against it and hope that it will just hurry the fuck up and finish her off.

"Oh, are you close? Do you want me to continue?" The Queen asks, mockingly. Jac shakes her head, teeth gritted. No, she won't give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing her beg. Of course, as soon as she shakes her head, he presses lightly against her clit, just enough for it to be pure torture. "Jac, while your defiance is half of the appeal, it does get rather boring, not to mention insulting when I can feel you clenching around me. Tell me how close you are."

"Close," The words slur with hatred and with an unwelcome physical desire that's going to get her killed. "Fucking close."

"Beg for it. Beg for satisfaction," It rubs and she shudders, so close that she can nearly taste blood. Her body wants this so badly. Her mind just wants it to be over with.

"Please. Just. Fucking please. Please your majesty," She's not even making sense. It's easier to try not to listen to the shit she's spouting and to pretend she still has some sort of dignity. "Just do it, just fucking do it."

He chuckles. The tentacle withdraws, leaving Jac empty and frustrated. She drops the skirt, staring at the Queen with rage. The Queen lifts his hand from his cock and just waits, giving Jac no instructions. She stands there, feeling her thighs grow slowly wet. The tentacle on her back pushes her forward, right up against the Queen. Her hands grab onto the arms on the chair to stay upright. The Queen slides his hand under her chin, tilting it up to face her. "Go on."

Jac stares at him, no idea what he wants. More begging, probably. The sick bastard. He's so close to her face, that smirk on his face. She steels herself, spitting out another word or two. "Please. Your majesty."

"Jac, Jac, Jac," He tilts her head down, until she's looking at the bulge under his uniform. "Go on. It's all yours."

Her mouth opens, angry and furious, ready to protest. But she catches herself at the last moment, seeing the look in the Queen's eyes. That bastard is just waiting for her to resist. He probably has this sick fantasy already all planned out in his head. She squeezes the chair arms before pulling her hands off and grabbing hold of his uniform, shoving it up.

The sight of the Queen's cock makes Jac's insides throb with desire. He's so hard, and she knows it'll give her the satisfaction she so desperately needs right now. It doesn't make her feel any less horrible about what she's doing. It's not fair. It's not fair how badly Jac wants him when she hates him this much.

The tentacles stay back, and Jac's forced to crawl into the Queen's lap all by herself. Her skirt is hitched once again, and her knees shove up against the chair arms as she gets settled. She takes a hold of the cock, holding it steady as she positions herself above it. Jac refuses to meet the Queen's eyes as she sinks down onto it. She fights to keep quiet, barely prepared for the moment those ridges rub up against her and her lips press together in a thin line as a flood of almost-there pleasure floods through her. The Queen isn't silent, groaning as Jac sinks onto him and chuckling to himself.

"Aahh, that's good Jac," He tells her, his hand touching the front of her dress, playing with the frills. "You might have gotten the short end when it came to breasts, but your cunt is truly divine."

"Shut up," She mutters and he laughs. Jac's hands grab onto the chair's arms and she starts to move, her hips roughly jerking down on his cock. At least she can set the pace this way, and she picks something demanding and furious, his cock sliding into her just right. Her breathing falls out of rhythm as it starts to spike inside of her. She's staring at the Queen's tunic when he grabs onto her face and forces her to stare up at him. "Your majesty-"

"I want to watch you come," His voice sends chills up her spine. She doesn't want to look at him when she's coming, but he doesn't give her a choice, keeping hold of her chin. Jac's too desperate to stop, and she keeps rutting against his cock. He leans in close, his mouth brushing up against hers. "Go on. Come for me."

Jac shudders and her self control breaks, one helpless moan making it's way out as she comes with one last slam of her hips. The overpowering punch floods her body and all her muscles tighten up, sending her into spasms. One tentacle wraps around her back and holds her tight as she falls apart. Even as it starts to fade, she's still throbbing, still tightening around the hard cock inside of her.

The Queen's still watching her, even as Jac's eyes finally open. He stands, picking Jac up with him, staying buried inside of her cunt. He sets her on the desk and thrusts deeply into her. Jac bites the inside of her mouth hard enough that she starts to bleed to keep from making a sound. The Queen fucks her steadily, his hand grabbing hold of the front of her dress and yanking on it, tearing it down to one breast. His hand grabs onto it, pinching the nipple, and he grins as Jac howls with pain. "That's good. Beg for it."

"P-please," Jac gasps out, and the hand rub over her breasts, cupping them and stroking them. The cock inside of her thrusts on and on, the Queen knowing Jac's body all too intimately. Jac hates him so fucking much, but the thought of the Queen stopping is even worse. The huge bastard was designed to turn her body against her, his cock fitting in her just right, not too deep, not too shallow, and his ridges rubbing up against her in ways she hadn't even realize were possible, and would have been happy to have never found out.

"Such a good Archagent," The Queen leans in tight, kissing Jac violently. Jac's hands grab onto his uniform, holding tight to it so she has something to grip. She kisses back, taking the opportunity to bite and fight him in a way that won't get her punished. He may be fucking her, he may be forcing her to beg, to need this and him, but she's still going to kill the bastard the first chance she gets. He'll pay for this, for every humiliation, for every time he's forced her to go along with his plans. The Queen can see Jac thinking and he thrusts in harder, getting a shocked grunt out of her. "Don't get caught up in thoughts. Focus on this."

Her hands tighten in his clothes hard enough to strain the seams. She doesn't rip them though, not like he did. The Queen kisses her on the mouth again, and then slides his mouth downwards, taking her nipple in his mouth and sucking on it. She curses, her eyes fixing high on the ceiling. "Fuck fuck fuck!"

"What a dirty mouth you have," The Queen brings his mouth up again, marking the sides of Jac's lips with his own. "I'll have to put it to use."

She shudders at the thought of having that bastard's cock inside of it. He laughs, holding tight to her dress as he fucks her. Her legs dangle off the desk and she feels the irregular build of another orgasm. Jac squirms, trying to get her hips in the right position. The Queen sees what she's doing and one tentacle helps shove Jac up, until his cock is slamming right into her in the perfect position. Jac's eyes going wide, cursing to hide the noises she really wants to make. "Fuck, oh fuck!"

"Oh you really like that, I can just feel you squeezing me," The Queen's voice is even sounding strained. His eyes are fixed intently on Jac, watching her like a cat watches a bowl of cream. His fingers pinch her nipple again, clearly trying to coax out some sound. "You're being quiet. What's wrong Jac? You can't shut your mouth any other time I see you."

"Maybe y-you just don't do it for me," She snarls. It hits home judging by the way he pauses in his thrusts, his eyes going even narrower. Jac feels a trumphant glow, even though she knows it will be short lived. And it is, the Queen thrusting in as deep as he can do, hard enough that it really hurts. Jac can't quite stop the sounds this time, something caught between pain and pleasure.

"Maybe you're just full of shit," He smirks down as Jac opens her mouth to curse some more, and the other tentacle comes up, pushing into Jac's mouth. She's startled by it, and even more by the salty taste. Her cheeks can't possibly go any redder when she realizes that it's the one he had inside of her. "Clean it off for me."

She snarls, teeth kept open by the way the tentacle crams and loops inside of her mouth, the end jutting out one side of her mouth. Jac can't stop drooling like this, and just as she's about to scream, the Queen's thrusts get too fast for her to handle. His cock slams into her, and Jac's eyes roll back in her head, coming for the second time. At least the tentacle slides out of her mouth and she gasps in air, desperate noises escaping at the same time.

Jac's head is swimming as the Queen begins to quietly grunt. She's exhausted, but the rage comes back in a moment when she feels him come inside of her, eyes widening with horror. Jac tries desperately to wiggle off of him, but the Queen simply puts his weight on her, holding her still as he keeps thrusting into her, filling her up. Jac tries to fight, even though her body is dull from coming. "Nonono stop! Stop!"

The Queen doesn't, not until he's finished. He stays inside of her after then too, lazily grabbing her arms with his tentacles and keeping them spread out. The Queen kisses her cheeks, smoothing his hand over her forehead. "You should be grateful I've chosen you for this."

"No fuck you no no!" Jac rages but he doesn't care. The Queen just smiles down at her, watching her fight, even though it's too fucking late. He came inside of her. The bastard came inside of her. She feels tears burning at the corners of her eyes and she tries to shove them aside. "Fuck you, why did you do that?"

"You know why I did that. Because you're my Archagent, and because you're mine to do with as I wish," He won't stop kissing her, even as she tries to turn her face away from him. His hand strokes one cheek, and the look on his face is almost dreamy, if it weren't for the snide, sharp eyes. "The King's gone to the Battlefield, so we won't have to worry about her finding out about our little secret."

Jac's so furious that she can't stop shaking, nor can she stop the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Fuck you."

"We'll have to work on your language. I don't need my child hearing that before it's even born," He finally pulls out of her, straightening up. The Queen lets go of Jac and she scrambles off the desk, knocking over piles of tickets onto the floor as she does. She stands there, barely able to keep on her feet, wearing a ripped and stained princess dress. The Queen puts his own clothes in order, glancing at Jac and tisking. "Look at your uniform. We can't have the Archagent dressed like that. Here." He tosses Jac's old uniform at her. She catches it. "Wear that until I can find you another uniform. You may go back to work."

Jac looks down at the uniform. She's still looking at it when she hears the Queen tap his foot. Jac looks back up and realizes that he's waiting to hear from her. The bastard expects something more from her, after all the monstrous things he's done.

Her voice is dull and monotone when she speaks. "Thank you, your majesty."

The bastard nods and strides out, leaving Jac alone in her office. She waits until he's gone before her legs give up and she kneels on the floor. Jac presses her face into her uniform and all that comes out is an incoherent scream, the sound of pure, unbridled rage. She screams for as long as she can, until her vision goes black, until she can't make a sound because there's no air left in her lungs. Jac only stops because her body forces her to breath.

She drops her uniform and claws her way out of the princess dress, ripping it apart as she gets it off her body. It doesn't make her feel better to render it into pieces, but at least it doesn't make her feel worse. She reluctantly uses the rags to clean herself, trying desperately to wipe off the bastard's lingering touch and the dampness between her thighs. It's not enough, but it's all she can do. Only when she's as clean as she can be without boiling hot water does she don her own uniform again, her fingers barely able to do up the frog buttons.

And then, because there's nothing else she can do, she staggers to her desk and sits down, looking at the toppled tickets. There's an empty notebook in the drawer and she pulls it out, grabbing a fresh quill and beginning to write. A plan comes together, her already messy handwriting turning into near gibberish as her hands shake when she writes.

The Queen will pay for this. Mark Jac Noir's words: before Jac ever starts to show, the Queen will be dead. And the last thing that bastard will see is Jac Noir's face as she makes him pay for this.


End file.
